


He Won't Give Up

by StarSpangledCap



Category: Avengers, Marvel, Steve/Tony - Fandom, Tony/Steve - Fandom, stony - Fandom
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledCap/pseuds/StarSpangledCap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setting: 1940s Manhattan, New York.</p><p>Tony's parents die in a terrible accident, leaving Tony alone with their butler Jarvis and a shit tone of items he inhabits from his father, mostly, and some from his mother. This leave's Tony lost, confused. He now own's his father's mansion, and fortune and he has no idea what the hell he wants to do with it. Trapping himself in his room, Jarvis pulls him outside and encourages him to see the outside world. Tony couldn't thank Jarvis more because of him he met the perfect man. A man named Steve Rogers, who was just an employee at the local cafe down the street from his mansion. Soon, the two become really close. Tony thought finally the world was on his side, untill Steve is drafted into the military. Steve promises he'll return and Tony promises he'll never give up on them.</p><p>Based off the song I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Won't Give Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published Stony fic, and my first fic on this website so bare with me people! I have been RPing on Omegle a lot so I think it has improved my writing skills, I hope. I hope you guys like this as much as I do.

2 weeks. It has been two fucking weeks since Tony lost his parents in that terrible car crash. Everything had been overwhelming and depressing. From skipping the funeral, to crying in Jarvis's arms, Tony was definitely not ready to head out to the public. Having inhabited everything his parents owned from his dad's billions to his mother's beloved China, it all hurt to own. So Tony sat in his room, the same room he had as a young child. It was fairly huge for a room for a 5 year old. Tony was 23 now and the room was still too big for him. Sometimes he'd just lay on the plush car carpet and blankly stare at the sky blue ceilings. It was a way to keep himself from breaking down. Losing both your parent on the same day isn't something that happens everyday, you know. He wouldn't eat much. He'd only eat what Jarvis had left for him at his door, which usually consisted of sliced oranges and apples with toast and a single donut. Tony would probably be dead himself if it weren't for Jarvis. He practically raised Tony as a child, and technically he is still taking care of the man after 23 years. He had long given up on physically comforting Tony because all Tony would do was push him around and tell him he was wrong. No, nothing is going to get better, I don't care what you say. 

It was a Tuesday, usually the day where Tony goes out to his favorite cafe just down the street, but he hadn't been there since his parent's passed. Tony was locked in his room, listening to some mello sounding song as he wrote in his journal. Mostly doodles of invention ideas, but sometimes he'd write about his life, feelings, or day in the journal he's had for so long. It was a turtle shell green with torn edges and a rough textured cover. It was given to him by Jarvis when he was 15. "Here you go Tony, now when ever you're upset or happy you can write those feelings down in this," he remembers the butler's British tone as he hands him the brand new journal. Tony chuckles at that memory and doodles a small Jarvis in the corner of his paper, ignoring the man who was standing in his door way. He really should learn how to close and lock his door. 

"Tony, you haven't been out for a week, I think it's time for you to go out and get some coffee," Jarvis babbles on to Tony, even if he knows Tony isn't listening to him. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Come on sir, I heard they hired a new guy at the cafe who can make a mean lattè, I'll even pay for it." 

Tony grunted in a response and turned his back to Jarvis, continuing writing in te journal he loved so much. He'd never admit to anyone that he loves writing in it. People say it's girly, childish, but Tony always loved to write. His mind was always running, constantly, and sometimes he coudn't write his thoughts out so he'd try as hard as possible to put down his ideas in his special journal. Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jarv, can I just... Stay in here forever? I don't want the ugly world to see my face anymore." 

"The world can be ugly, but it can also be beautiful. Sir, I expect you to be ready to leave in 30 minutes. You are leaving this house for at least today, no exceptions," Jarvis spoke in a parently tone before crossing his arms and leaving Tony's door way. Tony falls back against his bed with a sigh, journal falling to his side and his pen scatters across the floor. He was stressed enough, he didn't need a stupid British butler telling him when to go outside. Regardless of Tony's resentment to leaving, he got ready anyways and put on some jeans with a t-shirt and a black leather jacket before leaving out of his room and down the spiral staircase to where Jarvis was waiting. Regardless of their age difference(Jarvis was 47), Tony always thought Jarvis was one attractive man. From his blonde pointed hair to his brought chin and boney shoulders that were perfectly complimented by a well fitted suite, Tony would always be great full towards his butler, friend, family. His only family left. He stumbled on the last step before stopping in front of Jarvis and scratching at his neck.

"Lets get this over with," he mumbles aas he looks off to the side and moving towards the door. The two walk out together and Tony instantly goes for the car, but Jarvis grabs his wrist. "No no, sir, we are walking there. We are not driving a car 2 blocks down the road." Jarvis chuckled and pulled Tony down the side walk. 

"Okay, okay! Just let go of my wrist, you're hurting me," Tony whined and pulled his wrist free of Jarvis's grip, rubbing at the sore skin there. "Jesus, try not to rip my hand off next time will ya?" 

"Oh trust me sometimes I wish I could pull your hands off sir, but I'd rather avoid all that blood," Jarvis smiled back at Tony and Tony winced, the image of Jarvis cutting his hands off burned into his brain and he could mentally feel the pain. Shudder. 

"You wouldn't," Tony chuckled and pushed Jarvis playfully. Jarvis just pushed back lightly before laughing and stopping in front of the cafe. 

"This is where I leave you, Mr. Stark. I have some errands to run, have fun drinking your joe," Jarvis saluted Tony and started walking off towards the grocery store. 

"Wait! What the hell, Jarv! Why are you just LEAVING me here?!" Tony scream, stopping his foot on the concrete and balling his fists. He was acting like a 5 year old, but he thought he deserved to act like that since he had just recently lost his fucking parents. Tony rubbed at his temples and took a deep breath to keep himself calm before moving into his favorite cafe. He took a big wif. enjoying the old scent of coffee bean and cocoa. It always felt like home here and he soon found himself naturally sitting down as his seat next to the window which gave him view of the Manhattan streets. He sat his hands behind his head and thought of his father and how he'd never let him have a dog. Oh how Tony wanted a dog as a young child. He laughed, remembering exactly what he wanted to name the puppy. Dummy was going to be it's name, but his father had told him dogs dumb down your intelligence so Tony had to deal with a stuffed beagle puppy. He named it Dummy, and he still has it stuffed on some shelf somewhere back at the mansion. 

Tony was shocked out of his thoughts as a waiter who had asked him a question tapped his shoulder. Tony looked up at him with wide eyes and held his breath. This man was gorgeous. Perfectly combed blonde hair, big blue eyes that could make the straightest of the straight men melt, strong broad shoulders, and a chest any man would be jealous for. Tony coughed into his fist and looked at the table to make it look like he wasn't staring. 

"Um, sir? I asked would you like some coffee?" The man spoke oddly shyly. This interested Tony. This man must be the new guy Jarv was talking about. Tony grinned up at him and cleared his throat. 

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I'll take a lattè please, with a hint of caramel syrup," Tony twiddled his thumbs on the wooden surface of the table, tapping out a tune his father used to play on the piano when he was upset. 

"Alright, would you like some water? A muffin? We have blueberry, chocolate, poppy see--" 

"I don't need a muffin, thanks," Tony bit at his lower lip and hung his head down. He was suddenly not in a great mood to talk at all, no matter how attractive the person talking to him was. 

The blonde nodded, "Very good, I'll bring your lattè out soon." The man sat his note book back in his apron and walked away, going behind the counter and Tony could see the guy brewing his coffee. The man caught Tony staring several times and that made Tony look away quickly with a blush. Damn evil world and their beautiful people, why do you do this to poor old Tony? Tony laid his head down on the table 5 minutes later since his coffee wasn't there yet. This wait was getting quite boring, they should fire that guy. Just as Tony thought that, the man sat his lattè down next to his head and Tony jerked up, whimpering as he did so. He looks up at the man and notices the American Flag badge on his shirt. He raised an eyebrow,

"You in the military?" Tony was fairly interested in the military himself, his dad was in the military once. 

"Well, uh, sort of. I mean I just put myself on the list for possible soldiers if needed for another war, stuff like that. It's cool that you noticed though, not everyone knows what this badge means. You in the military?" Tony noticed the man getting less tense and a smile grew on his face. 

"My father was, not me. He built weapons for the war. Howard Stark was his name," Tony shrugged and sipped his lattè, trying hard not to moan at the taste because Jesus Christ this man could make a mean lattè. He laughed and licked his lips. 

"Oh I know about Howard! So you're his son, huh? Maybe you could follow in his footsteps, he is a great man!" 

Tony almost choked, almost. "Correction, was a great man. He passed away two weeks ago in a car crash," it took everything Tony had not to get emotional at that moment. Remembering his parents death was not something he wanted to do here. 

"Oh," the man frowned and pulled at his apron. "I'm so sorry. That must be hard... Mind if I sit down? I'm on my break and you seem like an interesting person."

"Sure, go on ahead," the man sat down and fixed his shirt. Again, Tony tried not to stare. "And it's fine, stuff happens you know?" 

"Yeah.. I know. My names Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers," Steve held his hand out across the table, waiting for a hand shake.

"Tony. Tony Stark," Tony nodded at Steve and shook the man's hand. Shivering at the feeling of calloused finger tips against his hand.


End file.
